What Matters Most
by chojutsuka
Summary: Minor Spoilers for PW:JFA, Case 1. Phoenix still suffers the effects of amnesia. Will he remember what matters most? Edgeworth/Phoenix Rating may rise.
1. Fragments of Life

Aftermath

_That knock on the head was something else_, he mused, carefully picking around spiked hair to examine the large welt throbbing on the side of his head. Dried blood caked the open sore; some of the red color smeared from the wound, mingling with the dark strands of hair. _I'm glad it wasn't any worse._

Yet somehow, he had won the case. He was ditzy, confused, and at one point asked the opinion of a child, but he managed to scrape enough of his memory together to succeed. All and all it wasn't the most attractive victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Thinking back to the drama from earlier, he smiled. Who could have known the thrill of yelling 'objection' in a courtroom?

Apparently, _he_ had. Was this the reason he became a defense attorney?

Some of the memories of his life had finally returned. Why he did not go immediately to the emergency room on the onset of his acute memory loss was a mystery – maybe winning that case meant more?

He shook his head at himself in the mirror, albeit slowly. Winning a case should not be as important as one's own life, he sighed, dabbing the purple bruise festering in his hair line with a damp cloth.

He exhaled again as he glanced at the bloodied cloth. Red on white. Red…Redd White?

Another memory of not too long ago…or was it long enough? Regardless, the name was familiar – it was a name, he concluded, despite its odd ring.

Dismissing the fragmented memory, he went back to cleaning the wound. A hiss escaped his lips as rubbing alcohol seeped into the open sore.

_A fire extinguisher_, he thought, feeling the size and texture of the damage. Not that he could assume that was what caused the injury...

…

…Gumshoe…told him. Presumably the detective used Luminol to test the extinguisher for blood…just in case.

Detective Dick Gumshoe, his mind clicked in place. As if he had called up information in his mind, his thoughts reviewed everything that he could remember about the man.

Not that _that_ didn't come with consequences – his head already hurt terribly, testing his knowledge was answered with a heavier throbbing on his temple. He didn't dare take more aspirin – he'd already almost finished a bottle on his own.

So he decided a next best course of action. He casually walked into his small kitchen and rummaged through the cupboard for a glass. Pouring himself a bit of whiskey, he downed the shot and filled another.

Best thing about alcohol is that it never goes bad and it's easy to store.

He glanced around his small apartment slowly, adjusting for the clouded vision and cloth pressed to his head. Nothing looked out of place, and he generally remembered the more important items in the room.

Still, he probably wouldn't have made it back to the apartment had Maya not shown him the way. He couldn't help but think about the questions that must have seemed silly asking his legal aide. The first aid attendant in court said that the effects of trauma should wear off within a few days, but his mind needed to know the answers of his life _now_.

"So how did I become a defense attorney?"

"I'm not sure Nick, but you worked with my sister, and she was your mentor."

"Mentor, huh? She must've been important to me."

A giggle. "You could say that, Nick."

"How long have I been a defense attorney?"

"It was one year, last month."

"Oh. Am I good?"

"Oh, yes, definitely so! You proved me innocent of a crime just recently!"

"Really? That's great!"

"…"

"… You didn't do it, right?"

"Of course not!" She administered a playful punch on the arm that was enough to distract from the mounting pain in his head.

He smiled at the recollection of the purple clad girl. She was an oddity for sure – the clothes told him that much – but on the inside, she was a caring individual, just like…

…?

Who did she remind him of?

Hmm. Apparently all the cobwebs hadn't quite shaken free from the vaults of his mind.

"So, my name is Phoenix Wright."

"Right."

"That's what I said."

"I mean… correct."

"Okay. So if I'm Phoenix Wright, why do you call me Nick?"

"Because Larry calls you Nick."

"…"

"…"

"…Harry?"

"No silly! L-A-R-R-Y."

He puzzled over the name again. Larry…Larry _who_?

Redirecting his consciousness to the present, he thought again about that strangely familiar sounding name. He even felt that there was a lighthearted joke somehow connected to it; a happy, contented feeling swelled from the thought.

_Hmm…Larry_.

He opened the fridge and pulled out an ice cube tray. Splitting the remaining cubes between the compress and his drink, he tossed the container into the sink and shut the freezer door. Walking over to the leather armchair in the small living area, he slumped into the massive cushion with a heavy thud.

He sighed as he pressed into the large chair, sliding forward to rest in an almost reclined position on the leather. It felt as though the ice was battling the pulsing mass raging at his temple. The slight buzz from the liquor helped a little with registering the pain, and for the first time since the incident he was able to relax a little.

An upbeat paced song started blaring at this side.

Quickly he recognized the tune that so fittingly made his case earlier. The 'Steel Samurai' Maya had called it; the protector of justice. He smiled as he answered the cell phone.

"Hey, pal!" Came a cheery voice from the other end. A bit much, he had to pull the receiver away while wincing at the gruff voice that nearly shouted his ear off.

"Detective! Please, could you keep your voice down a bit? My head still…"

"Sure pal!" If there was a difference, he didn't notice. "Just checking to make sure you're alright, is all. How's the noggin?"

"Better." Phoenix bluffed. It felt marginally the same, but he wasn't about to tell Gumshoe. He had a feeling that the detective could be a bit…overzealous at times.

"Good, pal! The doc told me you should take it easy for a little while. I called to make sure that's what you were doing." He heard confident breathing on the other side.

"Sure, Gumshoe." He winced as he adjusted the compress to his head. "I don't believe I'll be going anywhere soon. Thanks for asking."

"No prob, pal! Oh, another thing; the guys down here at the precinct asked if you wanted to press charges against the guy - you know, the witness from earlier?"

Phoenix only thought for a second. "No, detective. He's already convicted of murder – I don't think an assault charge is going to make much of a difference."

"No problem, pal. Still had to ask – police policy and all that."

"I understand, detective – thanks for the concern."

"You bet. Talk to you soon!"

The phone made an audible blip noise as he ended the call.

Sighing as he reclined in the chair a little more comfortably, he closed his eyes and listened to the sound of raindrops on the window. It had threatened to rain all day, so it wasn't surprising hearing the soft patter on glass. If anything, the sound felt relaxing as he let his eyes close, allowing himself to fully rest.

The light was blinding in the small room upon awakening. The kink in his neck alerted him to the fact that he probably shouldn't have fallen asleep on the recliner, no matter how comfortable he had been originally.

Another startling development occurred as he shot upright from his slumber.

"Your honor! I demand that the witness be held in contempt…of…court?" He puzzled a bit before sitting back in the chair. That dream was all too vivid; he could smell the perfume of the client, hear the sound of paper rustling on the courtroom bench, feel the intense charged atmosphere as if the room was filled with static.

Was it a dream, or a stray memory coming back to haunt him?

He groaned as the stiff pulse returned to his temple – the short reprieve before waking had worn off, leaving the ache that stemmed from his injury. Some of the pain seemed to dull down a bit from the day before, spiking pain reduced to a low throb that was much easier to handle.

Pulling the wet mass of compress from his chest, he realized that the now warm pack migrated from its original place at the side of his head. Apparently he had wrapped his arms around it, soaking his shirt overnight. He propped himself upward, took a look at the mess, then tossed the sopping fabric into the sink.

_I wonder if there was something I was supposed to do today._ Phoenix mused as he strode into the bedroom to change his wrecked clothes. Luckily the suit he had worn didn't cost much; the blood stains soaked into the collar of his jacket and lined his shirt that the attorney had no hope of removing now.

Checking the lump in the bathroom mirror, he noted that the swelling had decreased a surprising amount since the night before. A bit of sleep certainly helped with the recovery process, he mused at his reflection. Combing lightly over the bruise, he was pleased to see the majority of the damage was concealed in his dark hair.

Donning a similar blue pair of slacks and a white and blue striped shirt, he figured the best thing would be a little fresh air, and maybe some breakfast. Obviously he had nothing in the fridge at home, so it was apparent that he needed to find alternate sources.

The rain from the night before had given the city a fresh clean smell. The air was slightly chilled, but the cold didn't bother Phoenix – actually it helped with the cloudy feeling that kept sticking to his consciousness.

Walking up the street, he took in the vast scenery of tall buildings and listened to the noises of the city. He was almost glad he didn't have a license to drive, otherwise he would have missed all the sights. Other people were also walking about and he nodded to a few as he made his way to a small bakery along his path. Quickly he stepped inside.

"Mr. Wright! Long time no see!" A cheery voice greeted him. He nodded and smiled, though his mind had not decided to divulge information about who that it was addressing him.

He could barely make out the small figure behind the counter, large stacks of pastries blocking the view of the person on the other side. He stared, hoping to catch a glimmer of the greeter. "How are you?" He stalled.

"Just fine, Mr. Wright! So, will you be having the usual?" The voice inquired.

"Uh…sure!" he matched the lively cantor with his own. Just how often did he come here?

And what exactly was 'the usual'?

"Here you go!" He could see her now that he faced the counter. Short black hair and glasses stood out most prominently on the girl.

Pulling out his wallet, the tossed the only bill he had inside on the counter. A five wasn't going to go a long way.

"Oh, Mr. Wright! You're so modest! No matter how many times I tell you, you still try to pay. I already told you, it's on the house – you already did plenty for little ol' me!" The beaming girl deftly pushed the money back over the counter.

Phoenix blinked. _What?_ A slight blush crept across his face.

"Anyway, as much trouble I was in, it's amazing I kept this place open, and it was all because of you. Why can't I treat the protector of my livelihood?" She handed the attorney an unmarked bag of contents and a plastic container of steaming liquid, then playfully shooed him away. "Now git, before I make you – your regular seat outside is available."

Questions went zooming around in his hazy mind as he quietly stepped out the door. It seems that now more than ever he needed to use his deductive reasoning skills to figure out what was going on here.

If he couldn't remember that, what else could he be forgetting?

Sitting at a bench that overlooked the park, he opened the mysterious bag of contents to find a few cream filled donuts along with some hot…coffee, he smelled.

"Wow, Nick! You're already up and about?" A familiar voice called out.

Maya.

"Uh, yeah. I wanted to get something to…" he watched as the girl deftly swooped one of the donuts from inside the bag. "…eat."

"So, you must be getting more of your memory back if you came here. This is your regular routine." She happily chewed on her prize as her eyes gleamed at the lawyer.

"The woman inside says that it had been a while." Phoenix mused over a mouthful of pastry. No wonder this was 'the usual'!

"Yeah…normally when you work a case, you don't get a chance to come here. Traffic and all that." Brushing the crumbs off of her face. "All and all it's been what, three days? I think she was just being sarcastic."

"…I guess…" Phoenix swallowed, absorbed in thought.

A quiet moment passed as they ate. Phoenix was the first to break the silence.

"So, when was the last case I worked on before this one?" he asked. Judging from the five spot in his wallet, he hadn't been working much.

"Probably about six months ago." Maya gingerly finished the donut.

Phoenix almost choked on his coffee. "Why so long?" he asked, surprised.

"I don't know." She stated, a far away look appearing in her gaze.

Apparently Maya was wondering the same thing.

Suddenly, Phoenix felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Did she know something that he didn't?

"Maya." Phoenix started again. "Is there something that I should know? Or remember? Anything - I would really like to know."

The purple clad girl shook from her daze and gave the lawyer a jovial smile. "If it were _that_ important, I'd tell you!"

Phoenix relaxed a little, though the nagging sensation didn't let up much. He decided he would look into it himself later.


	2. What you Left Behind

I'll have you guys know that this fic was completely pawned by a new amnesia story. Forgive me if I have trouble completing it – In the mean time I recommend 'Shadows Passing' by SoWrightSoWrong. Excellent shit.

* * *

Looking up his name on the database at the Justice Center proved to be an easier ordeal than he thought it would be. Flashing his badge to who ever approached him worked remarkably well. Though people outside of the court system never seemed to pay it much mind, here it was treated like gold.

Finally he had his files pulled up on the monitor in front of him. On the screen was a listing of court dockets that he had been put up for in the last year. Some disturbing information was left staring back at him; of several cases that he had been offered, he only had taken a select few.

Obviously he was a good enough lawyer that he didn't need to look for work, so why had he only picked a handful of cases just to get by?

Quickly, he packed the information up, making copies of the more notable dates on the record. Somehow, he needed to find out more about this situation and fill in the blanks as much as possible.

What reason would he purposely keep himself off the docket for?

"Hey pal!" rang the second familiar voice of the day. "Where are you headed off to? You're supposed to be resting!"

He scanned the group of people meandering through the great halls of the court building to come face to face with that of detective Gumshoe. "Hey detective." Phoenix smiled, offering a polite nod. "Don't worry, I'm resting…I just needed to get some information on…a new case." He bluffed.

"Oh, that's good – so you're taking cases again? That's good, pal!" he noted a slight drop in the man's voice, but was followed by a hardy slap on the shoulder. "You deserve to be in that courtroom, the way you handle cases." He gave the lawyer a confident smirk. "And I don't compliment just anybody!"

The detective chuckled a bit, and waved to the attorney. "Anyways, I've gotta run back to the precinct – an understudy forgot to bring the evidence with him for a case that's going to start in fifteen minutes. Don't work too hard!"

Phoenix watched the burly man walk briskly through the exit, hollering for a taxi along the way.

It seems that everyone knew that he wasn't taking cases – and that it was voluntary.

He smirked at his cell phone. With the numbers erased, he had no hope of calling anybody to confirm or deny what had been going on in the past year.

A sharp pain jarred his senses and he realized that maybe he had done a bit too much for one day. Starting toward home, he thought about buying another bottle of aspirin.

Upon arriving at the flat, which he surprisingly did not have difficulty locating, he entered the small apartment and flopped onto the couch. It was still afternoon by the clock on the kitchen wall, but to him it felt as though he had been up for days. Exhausted he pulled off his shoes and relaxed into the sofa, pulling a blanket down that was draped along the backing of the furniture.

As he snuggled into the soft fabric, he inhaled deeply. Rest swiftly claimed him.

* * *

_Ready! One…two…THREE!_

_The two boys flew out from the upraised embankment, both holding tightly onto the rope that supported them above the ground._

_Screaming in unison from excitement tinged with fear, they zoomed out over the river and held on. Vertigo claimed them as they both giggled uncontrollably, swinging wildly on the line tied to the highest branch of the tree. They wobbled a bit before voluntarily plummeting into the water._

_The two boys sputtered as they laughed, spitting out water as they churned against the light current of the ravine._

_"You suck!" The dark haired boy called out, sending a wave of water toward the wide smiling sandy blond. They both laughed harder as they wrestled splashing water._

_"It was fun, Nick!" the other protested, still giggling sporadically._

_"That scared the ju ju bees out of me!" Nick floundered in the water, still smiling goofily at his partner._

_"You enjoyed it! Admit it – either that or you're just being a baby!" He thumbed his nose at the dark haired kid, drawing another fit of laughing between the two. They play wrestled until they reached the bank of the river, struggling in wet clothes to upright themselves on the flat rocks._

_"You want to do it again?" the boy smirked, a mischievous look in his bright blue eyes._

_Nick stood there contemplating. The scare was thrilling; did he want to do it again? The exhilaration of flying was enough to reconsider the initial shock. With his own playful glance, he nodded vigorously to the other child. "Heck yeah!" he defiantly cried._

_"Boys?" A faint call caught the two in mid stride back up the cliff. "I have some iced tea and cookies for you!" The tone was almost musical as the two simultaneously shot their attention toward the house a few yards away._

_"Ha! I got dibs on your cookies!" The blond shook the water from his hair and took off in full run toward the residence, offering no chance to retaliate._

_"Hey, no fair!" Nick called after him, breaking into a swift pace himself. "You better not touch mine, or you're gonna get it!" He pulled his hair back into the normally pointy appearance as he teasingly called out. "Don't make me say it!"_

_"No!" The boy protested, still in the middle of giggling. "I'll leave your cookies alone." Feigning a pause in his stride, Nick caught up only slightly before the other boy picked of speed again, barreling for the porch screen door._

_"That's it! You asked for it!"_

* * *

Phoenix mumbled in his semiconscious sleep, only realizing upon waking what he had said. His mouth was still frozen in that happy smirk from his childhood that widened when he recognized until now he had forgotten.

_When something smells, it's usually the Butz._

"Larry Butz." He spoke out loud. Memories about the lanky blond boy surfaced in his thoughts. Larry was forever chasing girls in school, always falling in love, and never seen without that mischievous look in his eye. Some of the other details of recent accounts were still muddled and fuzzy, but Phoenix still felt a small pang of victory in remembrance. Just then he wondered what his old friend was up to.

"Probably romancing some young model." he stated to the empty room, chuckling lightly at the ditzy friend that he kept acquaintances with.

Stretching on the sofa, he noticed the light on his phone blinking with that of a missed call. He had placed it on the table before he drifted off, and he must not have heard it ring while he was asleep. He reached over and picked it up, moving through the menu to recent calls. The display said that there was a voice message. Phoenix clicked over to it and listened, learning from Gumshoe to keep the phone slightly away from his ear just in case.

"_Hello, this message is for Mr. Wright. I'm calling to remind you of an appointment that you have today at four. Per the nature of your condition, this is a courtesy call to allow preparation time for this appointment. Thank you!"_

_Click_.

He checked the time on his phone. _Two thirty_.

Luckily he had enough time to get ready. He smoothed out the creases in his slacks and tucked his shirt back in. A cursory check of himself in the bathroom mirror indicated that besides his hair being a bit disheveled, he looked no worse for wear. Grabbing a jacket and locking the door behind him, Phoenix ventured to the bus stop in transit to the medical center.

* * *

"Ah, Mr. Wright!" The man in a white lab coat exclaimed.

"Hello, Dr. Murphy," the lawyer shook the balding elderly man's hand, passing a nod and smile to the friendly old man. "The medical examiner at the courthouse told me that I should come to you, and that you already have my file," Phoenix recited.

"Yes, yes, so he did. I take on his tougher cases – blunt traumas to the head by fire extinguisher _does_ fit that profile perfectly!" The doctor cheerily announced.

_Somehow_, Phoenix thought, _he was a little too happy about that point_.

"Anyway, these sessions are of no charge to you, being affiliated with the Justice Center has its advantages." The man wasted no time in dispensing with the formalities and went straight to poking, probing, and embarrassing the young lawyer.

"How has your memory progressed?" The doctor made small talk as he examined the head wound.

"I remember things little by little each day."

"Excellent," the older man crooned. "The type of amnesia that you have can effect all types of memory, but it generally short-term, meaning that everything returns in a rather quick amount of time."

"Is there anything that I might _not_ remember?" Phoenix hesitatingly asked. He flinched as the doctor poked at a tender spot.

The man in white chewed his bottom lip for a moment before answering. "Usually no," he suddenly stated.

_Usually!?_

"Usually?" the defense attorney almost yelled. He checked his voice as it left his throat.

"Well, you have to know that memory is a funny thing, Mr. Wright. If you need to remember it, there's good chance you will, even subconsciously. There are no problems or error in motor function, speech or logic centers…the only issues you mat have are with memories of your past. Personal experiences."

Phoenix blinked.

"More than likely you will retain those too…it just may take time. Remember, that fire extinguisher wasn't empty!" Murphy commented, smile beaming on his face.

Phoenix frowned at the cheerful quip of the doctor; then he reminded himself that he could be in worse hands. Regardless, the thought of missing personal memories made the attorney shift uncomfortably on the doctor's bench.

"Just stay calm, and try not to take too many aspirin. Get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids," the doctor seemingly chanted the mantra.

"Sure, doc. Thanks."

* * *

The bus ride home felt a lot longer than it should have been as Phoenix pondered what the doctor told him. Hearing that some of his memories would not return bothered him deeply – the thought of completely forgetting something important settled uneasily.

Phoenix sat upright with a sudden notion – _what if he already had_?

Phoenix squeezed his eyes closed, searching his mind despite the angry waves of pain that assaulted him. All that came from his efforts was the same void of endless black.

Sighing, he rose from his seat and stepped down the bus stairs. As the doors hissed open, his shoes clacked on the concrete sidewalk.

There was nothing to do but go home, yet oddly he felt compelled toward his office instead.

Dismissing the odd feeling, he continued walking toward the flat. Enjoying the cooling air of the early evening, he pulled off the jacket he brought along and pushed up the sleeves on his shirt. Breathing in the warm air, he felt himself relax a little in the pleasant spring smells that filled him.

Upon arriving at the small home, he dumped off his jacket onto the couch and kicked his shoes off at the door. Suddenly feeling very tired, he decided to take to the bedroom, the first time since the incident.

The bed was impressively tidy, sheets squared cleanly with the frame and outlining the pillows at the headrest.

The first thing he noticed was how large the bed was. _All this is mine?_ He smiled, realizing just how much flopping around he could do – he was suddenly seized with the thought of jumping on the bed. Dismissing the silly notion, he settled for stretching overtop the comforter as wide as he could.

_If I knew the bed was this comfortable, I wouldn't have slept anywhere else_, he remarked to himself. He raked through the blankets and snuggled into the sheets, exhaling a contented sigh as he curled into a ball, surrounded by softness.

Something in his mind clicked and his eyes flew open as the familiar smell imbedded in the cloth wafted to his nose. It wracked his brain, and filled his mind with distorted visions – all that quickly flew from his grasp as soon as he tried to recall them.

_This smell is familiar…_he thought to himself. Whether positive or negative, he wasn't sure. It was just _familiar_.

Another nagging pain in his head made him dismiss the awkward feelings biting at his mind. Still, not remembering caused more grief than any head trauma would allow; he made a promise to himself to find the answer.


	3. Chasing Ghosts

AN: I apologize for the length in advance. I've been suffering with a bad writer's strike from my muse. When things are clicking again, I'll let you guys know. I'm sorry if this chapter is slightly substandard from my normal work, but bear with me.

Lines indicated passage of time.

* * *

Chasing Ghosts

_It's been a week since the incident. It seems that I'm back to my old self – at least that's what everybody else is saying. I've decided to start writing in a journal. Not that I think any more suspects in murder investigations are going to bash me in the head with blunt objects in the future or anything; I just thought that maybe if I kept my more important thoughts here that there won't be any fear of forgetting something._

_That doesn't sound right_. Phoenix scratched out the last sentence.

_Now I won't forget anything important._

Ever since meeting with Doctor Murphy, the constant worry never left him. What if there was something important that he forgot?

Phoenix shook his head at the bothersome thought.

Therefore he bought a small leather-bound book as some sort of peace of mind. From or for himself he wasn't sure – it became difficult with each passing day to fill another page with something useful.

Tapping at the page with his pen, he thought for a moment before continuing.

_I took Maya out for lunch. It's not very often we get to hang out together, since she returned to Kurain to study the channeling technique. One thing never changes about her – Maya's insatiable lust for burgers._

Phoenix chuckled.

Indeed it felt like his memories returned. Pearls, Will Powers and even Wendy Oldbag had resurfaced, each piece alleviating the worry of something missing.

Yet in the back of his mind, an itchy uncomfortable feeling remained.

* * *

_It still feels like I'm forgetting something. It bothers me, because I think it's important. Maybe it's just my imagination; if it were important, wouldn't I remember it?_

His brows furrowed as he stared at the last statement he wrote. Looking at it in black and white was much different than when the idea was running around in his head.

He sat the pen aside the book and crossed his arms over his chest.

Casting a glance around the office, he realized by the soft glow of the desk lamp that dusk had come and gone, leaving the room dim and shadowy.

He rose and cautiously walked over to the light switch in the darkened room, hoping not to step on anything in his path. A soft click, and everything was bathed in the yellowish glow of the overhead.

Phoenix turned to face the collage he started to construct on the white wall of the office. Over the past week he had created a timeline of events that spanned his attorney career. It was still in its beginning stages, but the framework took a large portion of the wall.

He wasn't sure why he had started it. He wasn't sure if what he was looking for was real or imaginary. Phoenix only new what his instinct was telling him to do and this was part of it.

The steel samurai ring tone belted out, but he ignored it. Whatever he needed was in this room. It was right in front of him, in black and white.

* * *

_Hey, pal! Just calling to check on you. Haven't seen you in a while…but I'm sure you're fine!…Give me call sometime, okay, pal? Later!_

Message deleted. Next message.

_Yo, Nick! Sorry I haven't been around, I've been kinda busy. You see I got this new girlfriend, her name's Melinda…she's a real hottie. Gimme a call back and we'll hook up!_

Message deleted. Next message.

_Hey, Nick, It's just me…I'm just wondering what you've been up to. Haven't heard from ya…gimme a call, kay? Bye!_

Message deleted. Next message.

_Hiya Mister Nick! Mystic Maya says you haven't called her. You shouldn't keep your special person waiting you know – it's rude! Anyway, I miss you too…we both hope to hear from you. Bye!_

Message saved. No new messages.

Phoenix scratched at the stubble on his chin. He had neglected to shave this morning, making it the third consecutive day a razor hadn't met his face.

He probably needed it, but it didn't really matter.

His top priority right now was the public library. There were a few parts to the time line that needed filling in, and so he willed his body to make the two mile track. Glancing at himself in the mirror he winced at the coarse hair on his chin and the disarray of spikes on his head. Dark lines had begun to form under his eyes from lack of sleep but that didn't bother him as much.

He ran a comb through the unruly hair, making a disapproving face as the spikes decided to fall every which way on his head. _It seems like it's going to be one of those days…_he muttered as he rummaged through the linen closet for a hat.

His cell phone rang and he dismissed it, looking at it briefly before tossing it onto the couch. It bounced against the cushions and landed on blankets and pillows strewn across the surface, the song now slightly muffled in the creases of fluff.

Phoenix had dared not sleep in the bed since, preferring the couch over the bedroom. He wasn't sure why as with everything else he felt lately. It was just something he did.

Pulling on a powder blue ski beanie and a jacket, he left the small apartment in search of something, something he still wasn't certain about.

Phoenix had an idea that the answers he looked for were in the court cases he defended. It narrowed down the search since there were only a few since joining Fey and Company, only there were several people connected with the cases as well. The map along his wall had grown, encompassing clients, witnesses and victims.

He had a hunch that whatever he was looking for involved a victim. Now all he needed was a little more background information.

There was a bang on the door, loud enough to rouse Phoenix from his sleep. He didn't realize that he had nodded off, but realization struck as another knock on the door caused his eyes to snap open.

Apparently he had fallen asleep staring at the diagram on the wall with his arms and legs crossed. Unfortunately he only noticed his limbs because he couldn't quite feel them anymore, due to his awkward sleeping position.

He needed to stop falling asleep in his chair.

"Hey, Nick? Are you in there?" He heard a familiar voice from the other side of his apartment door.

He grumbled. Figuring he spoke to quietly for anyone but himself to hear, he called out again.

"Hey…is that you, Maya?" he shifted himself out of the chair noticing how his backside was also numb. He _really_ needed to stop sleeping in his chair.

"Yeah. Open up!"

"Gimme a second." Phoenix protested, trying in vain to stimulate his body into walking. With a few shaky steps, he managed to cross the space of the room and unlock the apartment door. Maya all but busted into the room in a flurry of purple.

"It's about time, Nick! I've been standing out there for a total of ten minutes!" she exaggerated. Then she turned to look at Phoenix and stopped. "Whoa. Nick. Are you alright? Man, when was the last time you shaved?" She continued looking over the man's appearance, as if studying every detail.

"I'm fine, Maya." He answered in half attention, focusing more on regaining motor function in his arms and legs.

"Nick." Maya's sudden serious tone caused him to pause and look at the girl. The stern face that greeted him was just as abnormal.

"What?" He answered back, resisting the urge to look away. Her gaze was beginning to unnerve him.

"Really. I haven't heard from you for a solid month. No one else has been able to get a hold of you. What have you been up to?" The tone was curious, yet harbored a slight uneasiness.

Phoenix thought about that himself many times in the past weeks. It wasn't as though he was avoiding anyone, but he had been slacking on keeping up with personal and business relationships.

"I…I've been busy," was all he could muster. It sounded lame and very unusual for him to admit, but he couldn't help it. What else could he say? Luckily Maya wasn't very astute; he couldn't exactly find a way to explain the collage he'd been building on his office wall. However it helped that most of the work was not visible from the apartment entrance.

Noticing he hesitation, Maya crossed her arms. She wasn't going to press the matter, but that wasn't going to stop her from speaking her mind, it seemed.

"Everyone's been worrying about you. I came in here to check on you and make sure you were alright."

"Why wouldn't I be?" Phoenix countered, crossing to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. "Everyone needs a little downtime, Maya."

"Yeah…sure." Maya nodded once, her gaze resting on the checkered floor tiles.

Suddenly Phoenix felt the hairs of his neck pricking. Something was indeed bothering the girl, and it became his main objective to find out what it was.

"Maya. What's wrong with me taking some time off?" Phoenix spoke, taking the offensive.

"N-nothing." Maya raised her hands in mock defense.

Phoenix rested his chin in his hand, stoking the thin stubble poking at his fingers. "Really? Why would everyone be worried about me then?"

"No reason, Nick. It's just we haven't heard from you." Her eyes shifted to avoid the attorney's.

Phoenix was sure now; there was something she wasn't saying. He just needed to figure out how to get her to slip; the truth was there shifting underneath the way she talked and changed her stance. Press enough and she'd fold. "Why, are you afraid that you wouldn't hear from me…like before?" For some reason it clicked without even realizing he'd said it. It just sounded right.

"No." She said, but the flinch was too noticeable.

"Maya. What aren't you telling me?" Phoenix challenged, the smirk finding a way to his face.

"Nothing, Nick," she spoke, though her entire aura said otherwise. Suddenly the mystic straightened and smiled. "I guess you're feeling fine, to be getting all lawyerly on me, huh?"

Close, but Phoenix had a feeling that he just missed it. "I told you nothing was bothering me."

"True. Well, now that I know you're not dead, I'll call you later," she said as she moved toward the door.

"Thanks for stopping by Maya," Phoenix smirked, shaking his head in amusement.

He felt a small victory as he watched her leave. Before, he thought he was chasing a ghost. Now he knew that something was missing – all he had to do was find out what it was.


	4. Red Marker

Here's chapter four for you guys. I was worried that I was turning Phoenix into emo!Phoenix, but my sister/beta said it wasn't. So, without further adue...

* * *

Another failed lead. A sickening red line struck through the notes on the wall.

That one wasn't it.

A month had passed. Phoenix had followed each lead diligently, however each would end in a thick marked cross, solidifying the fact his research resulted in nothing.

It was becoming a futile attempt. How could he properly locate something when he had no idea what it was? A note, a picture…anything that would make this endeavor worth something.

The law office had been suffering from neglect. Papers from cases were everywhere. Old newspapers had practically been stacked against the couch in an attempt to hold the pile up. His trademark blue suit, once pressed and clean, hung off of the back of his chair in a crumpled and abused heap.

In his frustration, Phoenix pulled down a corner of the menagerie on the wall. He watched as the taped and handwritten marker fell to the floor.

He decided he needed a drink.

Since the incident, he only took on one court case, merely to pay bills and buy groceries. Phoenix wouldn't admit it, but the lost memory had become an obsession spanning his entire personal life. He hadn't even called Maya back, who had been diligently leaving messages for him everyday, according to the Steel Samurai ringtone that belted out of his phone.

Phoenix shook his head at the troublesome thoughts. Walking to the kitchen, he produced a bottle of gin from the cabinet. He scanned the cupboards before realizing that all of his glasses were in the sink.

_Dishes first, then gin_, Phoenix mused.

Maneuvering all of the unwashed dishes to one side of the double vaulted sink, he ran hot water while placing the vast number of glasses into the pooling stream. Adding soap, he absentmindedly began wiping the dishes clean with a damp washcloth.

Time passed as he worked through the chore, the white noise of his mind providing a song to hum to while he worked. He picked up another glass.

His hands were too slippery from being submerged in the water. A squeak sounded as the glass slid from his grasp, and he scrambled to grab it before it could shatter on the inside of the sink.

Phoenix didn't quite think far enough ahead, reaching for the glass from under the surface of the water. A pain caused him to wince – he had since forgotten the knives were in the dishwater as well. He grimaced at the red line along his forearm and the sting that followed; however he couldn't help but smirk as he lifted the saved tumbler in his hand.

Rinsing the red trail under the tap, he inspected the depth and width of the incision. Good, he wouldn't need stitches or anything; it wasn't deep enough for…

A distortion of his senses caused him to lose track of his thoughts. There, bending and twisting, was the beginning of a memory. Somehow the bloodied line had initiated a recollection of something, and it was definitely a memory he hadn't reclaimed.

Reluctantly, he searched out the suppressed thought. There were feelings attached to it as well, causing an instinctual resistance to the ordeal. Sadness, anguish, and hopelessness bore into his heart from an unknown source.

_If he chose death, then life for me has lost its purpose._

The voice rang clearly in his mind – was it his own? – and echoed wantonly in his ears. The heavy beating of his heart matched the jagged breathing filling the room. Phoenix's eyes roamed the skin of the inner side of his arm, lingering on the white distinct line knitting tan skin together. A thumb brushed across the unusually smooth region, making note the distinct feel of it.

His gaze averted to the other arm. The skin was unblemished and even.

His brows furrowed. Was _this_ the cause of worry from his teenage assistant?

Quickly, he captured a paper towel to prevent the blood from traveling any further. In a mad dash, he searched the wall for the clues he needed.

Until now, he had only been researching events that directly related him by name. What if whatever happened remained anonymous to protect his reputation? If that were the case, then whatever he may be looking for could still be out there, covered under some guise.

He flipped through pages of a year old newspaper that he had considered trash after cutting the headline from it. There, hidden in section B-12, under various advertisements, was his answer.

_Ace Attorney Antics_

_A man was found early yesterday morning in his apartment after attempting suicide. Authorities refuse to release the name of the victim, however a reliable source claims that he is an acclaimed lawyer in the tri-state area. This has been the second attorney-related suicide attempt reported in the past few weeks._

_Police have disclosed that the lawyer is expected to make a full recovery, pending psychiatric evaluation._

Phoenix scanned the article, skimming past witty antics and dry humor plugged in by the author. It didn't give him names, but it sure as hell was something.

Dabbing at the cut, he pulled back the red stained towel to see that the flow of blood had ceased. Tossing the used napkin away, he neglected the remaining dishes in the sink of soapy water and poured himself a drink.

The gin tasted bitter going down, but the sensation was welcome. After all, he had to congratulate himself; that article was his first piece of hard evidence.

Phoenix kicked a chair out from under the table and sat down, reclining partways to rest his elbow on the wooden counter. He couldn't hide the smirk that came across his face – he was finally getting somewhere in this whole escapade. It was obvious the article was about him, he could be sure of that fact. Piecing together his memory with what he'd just obtained and the past would become clear. As his eyes wandered he couldn't help but notice how new his carpet looked against the second-hand refurbished upholstery.

"_You_ stole it!"

"What?" Phoenix stated dumbfounded.

"There was no other person that could've done it besides you. You're guilty!"

"Yeah!" Another voice chimed in.

"I don't know wha-" Phoenix voice was high and squeaky, surprising himself; the voice was very different to what he was accustomed to.

"We all know you're the one, even the teacher knows!"

Opening his eyes for the first time, Phoenix discovered that he was surrounded by kids. All of them had a look of hatred in their eyes pointedly in his direction. Though they were children the group was very intimidating. Size wasn't even a factor, because it seemed that some of them were even _bigger_ than Phoenix.

"You're gonna get in trouble. And probably suspended!"

"Or expelled!" Another menacing boy stated.

It wasn't explainable, but the thought to Phoenix was truly terrifying. "No!" He cried out, shrinking away from the group of kids.

"Now class, there's a civil way to do this. I'm going to take him to the principal's office…"

Phoenix's fear grew. Awful things happened at the _Principal's Office_. Only _bad_ kids are sent there. Trails of hot tears slid down his cheeks as he sobbed quietly, resisting only briefly when the teacher escorted him toward the door.

"Objection!" A voice like thunder called out, deep and smooth in its canter, practically jarring Phoenix loose from the chair as he crashed to the floor.

He had fallen asleep at the kitchen table.

It was that familiar voice; powerful, seductive, and haunting. Phoenix never felt so many conflicting feelings from a sound that only existed in his mind. It was in fact, only a dream.

Phoenix picked himself off the floor, hoisting the chair with him. As he polished off the last swallow of gin and made his way to the sofa that feeling of nostalgia stayed. Lying down on his makeshift bed, he pulled the blanket down off the backing and clutched it to his chest.

Somehow, thoughts of that melodic throaty voice lulled him to sleep, though he was not entirely sure why.


End file.
